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Comments about Paul Beare
Upon The Gardens Of Heaven
Daddy its raining again as you sleep face down in the sidewalk gutter across the street from Joe's bar.
Broken bottles of whiskey are shattered all around you and make me only wish that a wrong move would cut you blood cold.
You begin to stumble back to life as I fly back to heaven with the warm morning sun upon my little wings.
I don't want to hear you cry today daddy; mommy says that's the alcohol talking.
Mommy and I are doing well daddy with the other angels of fatal deaths upon the gardens of heaven.
Long ago, as it is in eternal time, I still remember being four of ...